


Cookie Cutter Romance

by AFireInTheAttic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, Christmas Caroling, F/M, Mentioned - Erica/Boyd/Lydia, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-13 18:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AFireInTheAttic/pseuds/AFireInTheAttic
Summary: “Lydia—you know, Lydia Martin?—sent me here. Erica and Boyd are coming over to our room to study—” this last word is said with quotation marks—”And she said instead of cockblocking her I should come help you bake or something?” She uncrosses her arms to dig a piece of paper out of her pocket. She’s not wearing gloves, and he can see that the skin between her fingers has dried out in the cold air. She tugs a piece of paper out of her pocket and waves it around. “She gave me your address. Sorry, I’m her roommate? I can’t remember if I said that, and I tend to ramble around important information? Anyway, Do you need help? It’d be great if you did because I kind of don’t have any where to go except the library and if I go there I’ll have to study, and if I have to read one more page today I may literally die.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my tumblr, @kiraandscott. I didn't really look over this today, but I did when I wrote it a few years back so...hopefully no errors haha. 
> 
> I'm counting it as one of the advent prompts, but bc of the number of words, it will be a little later in the series and I don't feel like continously adjusting it, so I'll add it later.
> 
> (the prompt I'm counting it for is "new" as in...new relationship!)

The timer dings at the same time that someone knocks on the door. As much as Scott loves all his friends, the cookies are a priority, so he just yells, “Be there in a minute!” and tugs on his oven mitts.

It was a good decision, anyway—the cookies are at just the right state of golden-brown and ooey-gooeyness. Not that they’ll be warm when they’re delivered, but soft cookies are about twenty times better than crunchy ones. Ask anyone.

He nudges the oven shut with his foot and slides the sheet of cookies across his stove.

Outside, the person outside knocks again, impatiently.

“Coming!” he shouts. Not for the first time that day, he wishes Stiles hadn’t taken his exams early to travel to Poland with his father. Granted, Scott would have jumped at the chance in Stiles’ place, but it still sucks that he was left dealing with all the baking on his own.

He hurries to the door without bothering to take off this oven mitts and swings the door open.

A vaguely familiar girl is waiting on the other side, scowling and crossing her arms. “Are you Scott?” she asks. She has a bag slung over her shoulder, and he can see the corner of her psych textbook sticking out of the bulging bag. She shivers and rubs her arms.

“That’s me,” he says slowly, eying her carefully. She’s pretty, but clearly in a bad mood. Even though she looks familiar, he can’t place her.

“Lydia—you know, Lydia Martin?—sent me here. Erica and Boyd are coming over to our room to  _study_ —” this last word is said with quotation marks—”And she said instead of cockblocking her I should come help you bake or something?” She uncrosses her arms to dig a piece of paper out of her pocket. She’s not wearing gloves, and he can see that the skin between her fingers has dried out in the cold air. She tugs a piece of paper out of her pocket and waves it around. “She gave me your address. Sorry, I’m her roommate? I can’t remember if I said that, and I tend to ramble around important information? Anyway, Do you need help? It’d be great if you did because I kind of don’t have any where to go except the library and if I go there I’ll have to study, and if I have to read one more page today I may literally die.”

"Uh,” he says, blinking at her. He tries to pull his phone out of his pocket, and belatedly realizes he’s still wearing the oven mitts. He wrestles one off and pulls his phone out. Sure enough, there’s a text from Lydia explaining that people coming over and that she’s sending her roommate. “Yeah, come on in,” he says, unsurprised that Lydia is getting action with more than one person while he’s still flying solo. It’s never bothered him the way it bothers Stiles, and at this point, it’s honestly just sort of amusing.

“I’m Kira, by the way,” she says, hands going into her pocket as she awkwardly follows him into the apartment.

“Scott,” he says, grinning. “But you knew that. I really appreciate you coming to help. I’m kind of up to my ears in cookies.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks, just before she walks into the kitchen. “Oh,” she amends, as she sees the room. “I can see why that would be…difficult.”

He tries to imagine it from her perspective—or anyone unaccustomed to his winter traditions, really. The kitchen in his small apartment isn’t large, but it manages to hold all of this—the four mixing bowls full of cookie dough, two dirty mixers, and boxes of cookies stacked on the back counter.

“Why?” she asks, edging across the room too look into the green mixing bowl. She blushes as she spins to look at him. “I mean. I’m not judging? Cookies are awesome? It just seems like a lot of cookies for…one person?”

Waving a hand at her, he moves over to the stove. The cookies have been on the sheet for the prescribed two minutes in the time he spent talking to her at the door, and it’s time to take them off and put them on the cooling rack. “No worries. Ask whatever questions you want.”

“Thanks,” she says, clutching her bag and leaning toward him as he uses the spatula to move all the cookies off the warm sheet and onto the cooling rack.

He’ll need to move the old ones off soon, and into boxes, to make sure he has room. He gets lost in his movements for a minute, and he doesn’t even remember she’s asked a question until she breaks into his thoughts.

“So?” she drawls carefully. “Why all the cookies?”

He finishes the sheet, blushing a little. “Sorry, I get really caught up. Um…I give them out. That’s what all the boxes are for.” He gestures with the spatula.

“That’s a lot of boxes,” she says, eyes wide as she looks at them now. “Who are they for?”

“Friends, family, homeless people. Sometimes Mom sends me a list of people nearby who are going through rough times. I take a bunch to families in the leukemia ward.” He shrugs, feeling a little awkward. Most of his friends know about it now and have stopped ribbing him for his “bleeding heart.” He doesn’t usually have to explain himself, and he doesn’t know how this will come across. He doesn’t like when people look up to him—what he’s doing isn’t really that special. It’s like, the least he can do for Christmas time, but normally people don’t react that way.

Kira is observing him with an unreadable expression, but finally, she shifts her weight and says, “Where can I set my stuff so it’s out of the way?”

This isn’t a reaction he was expecting, but he decides the best he can do is roll with it. “Um, living room?”

She nods and wanders out of the room.

Scott slides a new sheet of cookies into the oven—it had been prepped already, but he needs to cool the sheet he’d just cleared before he can line it with new cookies.

“How can I help?”

He jumps, surprised at how quietly she moves. “Uh, can you move the cooled cookies into these open boxes? Just two in each box. Four in the bigger boxes.” He sets the time and then looks over his shoulder at her. Without her poofy jacket, she’s small but obviously strong. He can see the muscle definition in her arms through her loose t-shirt, and he wonders what kind of workout she’s into.

“Do you make these all from scratch?” she asks as she twists her hair up and stabs a pencil through it. The messy bun stays, and for a second, all he can think about is how his mom does the same thing, and he still can’t figure out exactly how it works to make the hair stay up. “Scott?”

Shaking himself, he wonders what’s going on. He’s never this dazed, even around Lydia, who does tend to take over lives at an alarming speed. “Yeah, old family recipes. Mom and I used to do it together, after my dad left.”

She starts placing cookies into boxes. “A real pair of altruists, huh?”

“I guess so,” he says, laughing a little. “More like we were looking for normalcy? We always had cookies for Christmas, and we weren’t going to let a shitty absent father keep us from having mint chocolate chip cookies. But then we made too many and decided we might as well give them out.” He shrugs as he slips the oven mitts back on. “It got kind of addictive.”

“What are you doing?” she asks curiously as he picks up the cookie sheet and starts to leave the room.

Jerking his head in the direction of the front door, he says, “Come see.”

She follows him outside, not bothering to put on her jacket again. Goosebumps pebble over her arms immediately. He might have reacted the same if he hadn’t been overheating in the kitchen all day. The air out here just feels good. He grasps the hot cookie sheet firmly and waves it up and down several times.

“Why are you doing that?” she asks, grinning at the sight.

“Cooling the sheet down for the next batch,” he says between pumps of his arms. His asthma is mostly under control, but he still takes care not to breathe too hard.

She edges closer to him, rubbing her arms. “I didn’t know that was necessary.”

“If you want the cookies to bake right, you start with a cool sheet,” he says solemnly. This is something that may or may not be true, but his mom always used to send him outside to do it in between batches. It just seems right to keep the tradition going. When he turns to look at her, she’s smiling. “What?”

“Nothing!” she says, but she just grins wider.

Groaning, he slips past her to get back inside and start laying out the next batch. “Seriously, what?” he asks on his way to the kitchen.

She shuts the door behind them and shrugs as she skips past him. “Nothing! It’s just cute how serious you are about all this. I mean, it’s cute in a good way, you know? I’m not trying to emasculate you or anything. I just really like that you’re so passionate about baking cookies for the less fortunate.” She smiles at him, no longer distant. “It’s cool.”

“Thanks,” he says, actually a little touched. It’s still weird to be thanked for something that feels like the bare minimum, but he thinks if people always complimented him the way she just did, it might be okay. It’s more like she’s complimenting his passion than complimenting the act. That’s…nice.

Kira smiles at him. “No problem.” As they enter the kitchen, she moves over to the cookies and starts boxing them again. “So what’s your major?” she asks.

“Animal biology. You?”

“English with an emphasis on Eastern Folklore,” she says succinctly, and drops four cookies into a large box.

“Huh,” he says, and starts rolling a ball of cookie dough between his hands. “Is that even offered here?”

Turning to look at him, she shakes her head. “I do a lot of independent research, honestly. Luckily it’s my advisor’s area of study, so she’s been able to help…” Her voice trails off as she watches him roll the cookie dough. “You…”

“Hmm?” he asks, when it becomes clear she’s not going to add anything. Some part of him is aware she got distracted by his hands, but the rest of him isn’t really ready to acknowledge it yet. It’s a nice thought, though, because she’s beautiful, and probably really cool, since Lydia hasn’t complained about her at all.

She flushes. “Nothing. Um. Animal biology. Are you interested in being a vet?”

This is something he can definitely talk about, though. “Yeah, actually. I worked as a vet assistant all through high school and just really loved working with the animals. What about you? What’s your plan with Eastern folklore?”

She dusts her hands on her pants—rookie move, Scott thinks privately—and looks over at him a little shyly, almost. “I want to write children’s books with Asian protagonists, about Asian folklore.”

“That’s really cool,” he enthuses. The cookie sheet he’s working on is nearly full now and he’s only got about two minutes left on the timer. “What’s your favorite myth?”

“Probably Tamamo-no-Mae,” she says, the name falling from her lips easily. “There are decent English translations, but the Japanese version is a lot better. Of course, I had to listen to the audiobook because I can’t read Japanese at all.”

“But you speak it,” he says, impressed. “That’s really cool.”

“Yeah, I really like languages. My parents are always buying me new levels on Rosetta Stone for Christmas and birthdays,” she says, smiling a little awkwardly. “I’ve been working on French for years, but there just aren’t enough people to practice with. At least with Japanese, both my parents speak it.”

The timer goes off just as Scott finishes up the sheet he’s been working on. “I speak a little Spanish, but nothing else interesting,” he confesses.

She waves a hand. “Still cool. This goes fast, huh?” she says, leaning against the counter and watching as he trades the sheets in the oven. “When do you deliver them?”

“I take the boxes as they’re full. I usually pass people who look like they could use them on my way to school.” He glances over at her and feels something flutter in his stomach. It’s not normal for him to meet people he  _likes_  the way he thinks he might be starting to like Kira. And the fact that she seems genuinely interested in him as a person really helps.

“Do you ever go on big deliveries?” she asks.

“When mom comes to town, we go out in her car,” he says, shrugging. “Otherwise, I can’t, because I don’t have a good way to transport them.”

She nods in understanding, and then, ducking her head to look at him through her lashes, asks, “Do you think I could come along? I’d like to see you in action.” She shrugs. “And I want to see the way people react to your cookies.”

“Of course,” he says. The flutter is stronger now, and he finds that he doesn’t want it to stop.

“Cool,” she says. “What else can I do to help?”

“Um,” he says. “Do you want to get these cookies off while I check on those?” he gestures to the cookies on the cooling rack.

“Sure,” she says, smiling and switching spots with him. Their arms brush as she passes him, and she smiles at him in a way that feels very special and very private.

He could get used to having her around.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More like a coda than anything, but here's the follow up from a few years back! Once again cross-posted from @kiraandscott.

Scott’s kitchen was full of cookies. 

There had been a point in Kira’s life when this had still been surprising, but now, she was pretty used to it. “What are you gonna do with all these cookies?” she asked.

From his position at the table, flopped over in exhaustion in a chair, he said, “Give ‘em away.”

“You said that before,” she says, yawning herself. She and Scott had been baking all afternoon, and had only stopped a few moments before. She wanted to curl up on his lap now, face tucked into his neck…

But they weren’t there yet. She could respect that.

Clearing her throat, she went to sit next to him, moving her chair as close as she could without being obvious. “When are you doing it? And who’s on the list this year?”

“Mom and I always go caroling on the 23rd of December and bring these with us,” he said, observing his kitchen.

She glanced at her phone to confirm her suspicions. “Today is the 23rd.“

“Oh,” he said, and jumped to his feet. “I gotta load the car, like, right now.”

He started rushing around the kitchen and grabbing boxes of cookies.

Kira moved more sluggishly, but she followed behind him, making her own stack of cookies and following him downstairs. It only took about three trips like that before his backseat was filled, and then the two of them were off.

“It’s already night, and I still have the rest of the batches,” he lamented.

“Dude, don’t worry,” she said, reaching over to stroke his arm. “We will totally handle this.” She let her fingers linger for a moment, and then settled back into her seat. “So, what are we singing?”

“Just basic ones—Rudolph, We Wish You a Merry Christmas—that kind of thing. You know ‘em?”

“Sure,” she said, shrugging. “What about Frosty?”

He nodded and started to pull into a parking lot of an apartment complex. “Ready?”

“Yup,” she said, and hopped out of the car. “Let’s do it.”

* * *

She was exhausted by the third building in the apartment complex, but they still had 2/3 of the boxes Scott had set up in the backseat. Who knew Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer could be so annoying when you had to sing it over and over?

On the bright side, Scott had given her his scarf after the second time she shuddered and edged closer to his heat, and now she couldn’t smell anything but him. She buried her face more comfortably into the scarf.

By the end of the apartment complex, they were down to just a third of their original cookie count—not counting the boxes back in his kitchen.

“Let’s go out tonight,” she sighed, arching her back and stretching as she settled into the passenger seat.

Scott smiled softly at her—a smile she was coming to recognize as an indication that he totally wanted to make out with her. “What do you want to get?”

She glanced at the back seat and then grinned up at him, quietly reaching for his hand on the gearshift. “Anything but cookies.”


End file.
